Behind the Albergue Door: Inspiration Agony Adventure on the Camino de Santiago

the magic of convenience, sugary breakfasts, destroying the health of eight year olds and subtle eroticism. Sometimes they just seemed designed to piss me off, like the time in Sarria I put in €1.50 for a can of Coke, but apparently the machine had run out of Coke, so it generously returned my money – in the form of thirty nickels.
    Once we had breakfast out of the way it was time to embark on an epic journey of self-indulgence limited only by the paltry selection of food available in the bars along the way which typically focused more on promoting cheap wine and grotty bathrooms. In most cases, having the option of either salty prosciutto (creating a desperate thirst) or greasy chorizo (for thick lustrous sideburns) in your bocadillos was akin to a buffet of choice. Now and then you might be lucky enough to come across something roughly resembling a cake made of egg and potato inexplicably referred to as a “tortilla”. Limited selection aside, however, we were amazed at the sheer volume of food we consumed while on the Camino. Which I suppose is understandable considering we were hiking more than 20 kilometres per day. The surprising part was that roughly 90% of everything we ate was some form of heavy white bread. Filling, and excellent for cutting the shit out of your gums. The other 10% was generally comprised of salami, Snickers bars, Sugus (the poor man’s Jolly Rancher), cheese, bananas and ice cream. I kept hoping that if I looked close enough I´d eventually find some vegetables on the list of Snickers ingredients. How is there not a carrot in there somewhere? Then, as we neared the end we began to wonder just how we were going to break the habit of eating five meals and three desserts per day once we were no longer hiking for eight hours (not to worry, though, it turns out that most of us are just way too lazy to rustle up food that often). All of which probably explains the depressing disappointment felt by all those plump hopefuls hiking the Camino at least partially with the expectation of ditching the life preserver around their waist. Even most of those who weren’t specifically there to lose weight still secretly expected that one of the fringe benefits of putting themselves through such an ordeal would be returning home slimmer, trimmer and suddenly attracting suggestively lingering glances from the shampoo girl at their usual hair salon. With a handful of exceptions (mostly people with terrible eating habits, like not eating before 2 pm, or adhering to a strict granola bar and coffee diet), for the most part those people were dead wrong. In fact, I am pretty certain that a lot more people actually gained weight than lost it. As much as we wanted to believe those long days of drudgery would provide this particular silver lining the extra exercise was barely even competition for the sheer number of sugary bread products, sugary treats and sugary drinks we would consume throughout any given day. A couple cappuccinos, maybe a Coke or two, a few beer in the afternoon, some wine with supper – it all added up, then attached itself to our thighs along with all the lumpy new muscles. So it wasn’t that we got thinner, really, just that we ended up changing proportions (smaller arms and stomach, bigger thighs and feet and, of course, raw swollen nipples).
    As for what we ate, with my palate being among the least experimental of our group of friends (something that could also be said for my attitude toward bidets), my diet was particularly weighted towards hefty bocadillos, but where I really turned things on their head was in my preference for custom designing them so that, while still lacking butter, sauces, lettuce or anything else resembling a vegetable, they included both salami and cheese. Dare to dream, that’s what me and the guy who quit practicing law to open his own Sunglass Hut franchise like to say.
    Our evening meals were dominated by the ubiquitous Pilgrim’s Menu. These meals are specially designed for the unnaturally hungry pilgrim with limited Spanish and a tight budget. In most cases, restaurateurs can spot a pilgrim a mile away, but in certain instances you may need to substantiate your status by either showing your Camino passport, or rubbing them with your foot blisters, or maybe letting them sniff your Camino shell. Usually around €10, the meal normally includes three or four choices each of starter, main dish, dessert, and the ever-symbolic choice of water or wine. And,